


That Time John Was Rodney's Slave

by wolfelements



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6776080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfelements/pseuds/wolfelements
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John glowered at Rodney and his hands clenched around his P-90 like that alone would save him from the embarrassment of being labeled as Rodney’s property.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time John Was Rodney's Slave

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first SGA fic.

Rodney was used to being mistaken for a slave. Well, okay, so it had only happened three times, but that was plenty enough for Rodney’s lifetime. In a galaxy where the ability to fight and defend your people was uplifted above all other gifts it wasn’t that surprising to find that when some of their potential trading partners discovered his was more brains than brawn they assumed he belonged to John Sheppard. Or, just that once, Ronon. 

He would have been much more upset about the whole idea if it hadn’t given him the chance to investigate energy readings without having to involve himself in ridiculous politics and chitchat. 

So, that being said, Rodney was mostly used to the Pegasus slave concept. Or chattel, as they preferred to call it. This, however, did nothing to prepare him for M7X-801.

He didn’t bother to hide his smug expression when John settled onto the pillow next to his chair. John glowered at Rodney and his hands clenched around his P-90 like that alone would save him from the embarrassment of being labeled as Rodney’s property. He leaned back in his seat, sighing in comfort. “I could get used to this planet.”

“Speak for yourself,” John muttered.

He waved a finger in John’s direction. “Now, now, a proper slave does not speak.”

John said something under his breath, only to have Rodney lightly slap the back of his head. “Hey!”

“I’m thirsty,” Rodney stated. John stared at him, raising his eyebrows. He cleared his throat and pointedly tilted his chin toward the man sitting across from them, who was being handed a drink from his own slave.

“I am not—“John started.

Another slap to the back of his head, this time a little harder.

“Okay, that is enough,” John snapped, rubbing at his now sore head. “I might have to play at being your servant for a few hours while Ronon and Teyla survey the food we’re trading for, but I don’t have to sit here and take this kind of abuse.”

Rodney opened his mouth to say something scathing and most likely completely inappropriate when the village leader set down his glass and sent John a disgusted look. “Your chattel does not appreciate his position.”

“Uh, no, he’s…difficult like that,” Rodney offered. The older man, whose name Rodney had forgotten minutes within hearing, turned his narrowed eyes onto Rodney, making him shift in his seat. And, really, Rodney should not have felt like a scolded child just from that one look, but somehow he did. He was a bad owner who needed to discipline his slave. Rodney blinked and ignored his own blush. “I’ll be sure to, uh, take care of that later. I prefer to punish in private.”

“Hmm,” the man hummed, reaching out to pick up his glass again.

He looked down at John, taking in the way John’s eyes were now focused on the floor and how he suddenly looked truly submissive. Like he was physically apologizing for his behavior. Rodney didn’t want to know how he learned to do that and the fact that he was doing it now made Rodney feel queasy. 

He easily pushed the feeling down and nudged John with his elbow. “Thirsty.”

John rolled his eyes and reached for the pitcher, pouring the purple-tinted liquid into Rodney’s glass. When he handed it over he sarcastically said, “Anything else, master?”

“It doesn’t have citrus in it, does it?” Rodney asked. “The last thing I—“

He cut himself off when John lifted the glass to his own mouth and took a sip. He watched as John pensively savored the drink, slowly growing impatient the longer John took. 

“Well?” he demanded. “Will it kill me or not?”

John smirked. “I think you’re safe.”

He grumbled and snatched the glass from John’s hand. The village leader was still watching them, so Rodney sent him a slight smile. After a moment’s pause, the man cleared his throat. “If you wait too long for discipline he may not learn his lesson. I do not wish to insult your ways, but if you are willing I could offer you the privacy to take him to hand.”

“Take him to…oh, um.” Rodney knew his face was as red as a strawberry as he glanced at John. “Well, I suppose I could…yes, actually, that would be wonderful. I expect no assistance, of course, just me and my…uh, chattel.”

“Rodney,” John hissed, “what are you doing?”

“I will have a hut prepared,” the man said with a bright grin, clearly pleased with Rodney’s decision. 

He waited until the man had left the room before turning to answer John. “Look, this way we can spend our time waiting alone and without you needing to bow down to me like this. So instead of being surly you should take a moment to appreciate the fact that I’m not taking advantage of the situation, unlike you. I happen to be better than that.”

“Hey!” John exclaimed, frowning. “I was just following along with the Cartenions. Everyone else was petting their slaves. I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“Now see here, Sheppard,” Rodney began, feeling himself winding up into what would probably have been a wonderful rant if the village leader hadn’t popped his head into the room and announced that the discipline room was ready. Rodney winced at the look John gave him before standing and leading the way out of the large community hut. 

They could see Ronon farther down the line of huts, standing in front of what passed as the village’s storage. Most likely, Teyla was inside ironing out the last details of their trade agreement. 

The hut they were brought to was decorated differently than the others, with black paint lining the door way and blood-red flowers planted around the building’s base. Rodney shrugged and stepped into the room, John behind him. The village leader poked his head in briefly. “I have arranged many items for your use, as I was not certain of your own people’s practices. Feel free to take as long as you need.”

That said, they were left alone and Rodney was stuck staring at the chains hanging from the ceiling.

“Well, that’s disconcerting,” John commented, following Rodney’s gaze. He sent the scientist a look. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But what if they check up on us?” Rodney asked, waving a hand toward the metal cuffs attached to the chains. “At least they’d have the impression you were being punished. That’s better than nothing.”

“You’re not chaining me up!” John protested.

“Here I am, trying to respect the culture of the planet we are visiting,” Rodney said, “and all you can do is complain? I’m at least attempting to fit in. At least this is the first time you’ve had to act like this! I’ve done this, what, three times? I’ve had to sit at your feet and let you pet me like some kind of dog!”

John rolled his eyes.

“They wanted Ronon to put a leash on me that one time!” Rodney exclaimed, his face turning red. “And you’re upset because you’re the one being delegated the role of chattel this time around? You, John Sheppard, are a hypocrite!”

“Are you done?” John asked.

“No.”

“Oh, well, then. Continue.”

“I bet this devil-may-care attitude of yours is just to cover up how offended you are to be labeled as my property, isn’t it?” Rodney continued, smugly. He noticed the pinched expression on John’s face with barely hidden glee. “The great John Sheppard is nothing more than—“

“Shut up, McKay,” John finally growled.

“Make me.” Rodney was almost certain he had the upper hand here. While he enjoyed any form of friendly argument with John he had to admit that the best kind was when he was winning. John stormed over toward him, but Rodney wasn’t worried. No matter how much he pissed John off, he doubted the man would ever actually hurt him. However, the expression on John’s face was different than he was used to and he found himself repeating his words. “Make me.”

There was a twitch forming next to John’s eye, but aside from that the man didn’t react. 

“Hah! I told—“ 

Rodney was cut off by John’s hands suddenly grabbing his shoulders and holding him tightly. He stiffened, watching John warily. John blinked at him, like he was momentarily dazed, before leaning forward and kissing him full on the mouth. Rodney grunted, shocked.

He didn’t know how to react. His mind shot forward in a series of thoughts, theorizing some sort of explanation for John’s behavior, but when John’s tongue lightly touched his lower lip it all stuttered to a halt. His brain froze and all he could do was part his lips and let John in.

They kissed and, yeah, it’s perfect. It wasn’t like in the movies that Rodney would never admit to watching, where a swell of music matched the flutter of his heart or some such nonsense. No, the kiss was just that, a kiss. That was exactly what Rodney would have wanted if he had allowed himself to actually think about doing this before. And that was a total shame, because Rodney had apparently been missing scores of fantasies which could have featured John. 

He felt himself moan, which proved to be just enough of a reaction for John to pull back. They stared at each other. Rodney licked his lips, tasting John. He took one look at John’s unsure expression and muttered, “For crying out loud!”

He cupped John’s face, managing to be somewhat gentle as he pulled John back in for another kiss. He tongue delved immediately into John’s mouth, tasting and exploring. John’s fingers flexed from where they were still holding his shoulders, before the man slid his arms around him. Rodney let himself be pulled closer, letting out a noise that could have been another moan if it had been any louder. John made an answering sound, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

While he managed to breathe through his nose and therefore prolong the kiss for as long as possible, he soon found himself getting light headed and had to pull back. John’s mouth was red and swollen from the kiss. Rodney swallowed. “Well…hmm.”

“Hmm? That’s all you have to say?” John asked. Rodney felt a tremor run through him at the sound of John’s voice, which was deep and rough and really, really sexy. 

“You wanted to shut me up, didn’t you?” Rodney retorted, trying to come up with a sense of annoyance on his own behalf. Sadly, he was too turned on to manage it. “I’m pretty sure that worked.”

“Except for the part where you’re talking,” John pointed out with a slow smile.

“There is that.”

“I might have to work a bit harder at my method, then.”

“Oh, yes,” Rodney nodded. “It’s a proven fact that practice does indeed make perfect, so that would be the best option. It’s not like we have anything else to do in here, anyway.”

“Well,” John said slowly, looking around, “you could always whip me.”

The sound that escaped Rodney would have been embarrassing, if it wasn’t for the fact that even John was trying not to blush over the fact that they had actually been provided with a leather whip. Rodney looked at the object critically for a moment, before shaking his head. “I’d prefer the kissing, actually. Consider that your punishment for being such a bad slave.”


End file.
